


Webs we weave

by DrivingStraight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, BDSM, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Infidelity, M/M, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25960963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrivingStraight/pseuds/DrivingStraight
Summary: "I thought you quit" Draco ventured lightly as way of alerting Ron to his presence.Inhaling deeply Ron looked squarely at Draco."True love, but then I thought you promised not to fuck anyone but me…Looks like we're both filthy liars doesn't it?" he quipped as he tapped ash onto the kitchen floor.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	1. Torn down

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very old fic that I have taken apart and rewritten. Im hoping to have three chapters total. Let me know in the comments what you think! It means a lot. 
> 
> Later chapters will include Smut, BDSM and mentions of noncon.

Draco's head snapped up as he heard the door above him slam shut. He’d been lost in thought as he worked. The potion he’d been stirring hissed angrily in response to the seconds neglect. It required constant stirring, the reason Draco had chosen it. It needed sixteen hours of mixing and attempting to do so without a spell had been exactly what he’d needed to keep from going insane as he waited. 

He glanced at the clock. It was two am and from the force the door had been closed at Draco deduced that time had not cleared Ron’s head.  
With a flick of his wand he set the potion stirring itself and stood stiffly, wiping his tired eyes and giving a moments glance to his clothes he sighed. He was still wearing what he had left the house in yesterday. His jeans now stained with potion ingredients and god knows what else and his shirt creased beyond repair. Draco gave the distant impression of a man who had just had either a really good or a really bad night. Wincing he considered how it was the latter. 

At the sound of footsteps above him Draco turned and slowly climbed the stairs from his basement workspace leading to the hallway of the house he shared with his fiancé. In the last year of the war Draco Malfoy had earned himself a reputation of being an exceptionally brave man. He’d never felt it was deserved and in moments like this that feeling was confirmed. He was in his opinion naturally quite cowardly, the only reason he had charged into the battlefield was because the alternatives as presented were worse. That was not bravery per se it was just sense and right now as he stood staring at the door of the kitchen in front of him, he dearly wished there was another battlefield to charge… for the second time in his life it would be the easier choice.

When he eventually opened the door, it was to see Ron furiously wrestling with the plastic wrapping on a pack of muggle cigarettes. He finally succeeded in ripping it off, then more deftly opened the inner packet only to have a lit smoke in his mouth so quickly it could have been mistaken for magic. Draco knew it was just the speed ex smokers acquired when feeling… well…whatever it was Ron was feeling. 

"I thought you quit" Draco ventured lightly as way of alerting Ron to his presence.

Inhaling deeply Ron looked squarely at Draco. 

"Thats true Love, and I thought you promised not to fuck anyone but me…Looks like we're both filthy liars doesn't it?" he quipped as he tapped ash directly onto the tile of the kitchen floor. 

Draco had not become a successful spy by letting his emotions play out on his face. So, while he felt for a moment like he'd been punched in the gut, his face didn’t betray any emotion other than the very real annoyance he felt watching ash swirl downwards and land on the tile that he had carefully picked out two year previous. 

He reached stiffly for his wand. His movement restricted as he was still not fully recovered from the previous night. He fought against the wince of pain he felt as he swished in the ashes direction. Household spells were easy for him. He hardly needed to think let alone verbally cast. The ash swirled away into nothing. He raised his wand again and this time pointed it towards the living room behind him.

“Accio ashtray” 

They heard the familiar clink of an item leaving the sideboard and watched it fly into view and hoover within Ron’s reach. Charmed to follow smokers at a party, it would attend there until waved away. 

“Ta” Said Ron rolling his eyes but tapping this time into the offered tray nevertheless.

A long moment drew out between them then as they took each other in. Draco felt suddenly self-conscious of his disheveled state. He was neat by nature, always put together, even when they were alone. Ron liked to joke that it was his job to undo all his tidy buttons, wrinkle his ironed shirts and muss his spelled down hair. He’d laughingly threaten to fuck him till he looked just like the rest of ‘us mortals’. Then, when he’d finished his undoing Ron would run his fingers across Draco’s skin and whisper how he loved that only he got to see him that way… with bed hair, sleep in his eyes or pillow creases on his face…Soft and messy and… his... Draco steeled himself against the memories and reminded himself again of his skills. Skills that that had kept him and others alive and his face remained untouched by the thoughts. 

In stark contrast Ron never bothered to brush his hair unless he was told to. His clothes were soft and comfortable and well worn, even when he was dressed formally he managed to look messy. Draco often thought that he looked like a Sunday morning. Ron never had to school his expressions or hide how he was feeling. There was little point as it danced across the surface of his skin when he flushed in anger or embarrassment. His mouth pulled helplessly upwards at the slightest joy and fell at the smallest slight…It was refreshing for Draco. Having come from a home where no one said what they meant or showed any feelings let alone real ones. At the beginning he would thrill at the how Ron would storm around cursing or sulking unrepentantly and then just as suddenly scoop him up in a laughing embrace...He liked that he never had to guess or calculate his moves with Ron. It was all so obvious. Just as it was obvious that Ron was currently furious. 

Draco took in the haze of anger that rolled off him. The set of his mouth, a blunt line only to be parted for the butt of his cigarette and harsh words. His hands, that were usually soft and searching were tight and clenched in anticipation of a fight. Ron was always quick to anger, but it faded just as quickly … He’d lost his habit of holding grudges early in the war.

_“When Mione nearly died” He’d told Draco late one night in the first weeks of them._

_“I was angry at them both. Wouldn’t speak to them for days. Then suddenly he was screaming my name and she was there dying in his arms and I thought…She’ll die thinking I was angry at her. I’ll never be able to take it back” He’d looked far away for a second and then broke into a smile._

_“So, we’ll just have to have it out and then get over it, Okay? Cause chances are one of us is gonna end up dead pretty soon” He’d winked then and kissed Draco goodnight._

It was the first time Ron had implied that there was a them to work on and not just a now. Tonight, would not be their usual having out and getting over… This seemed insurmountable. 

The silence stretched and finally was broken by the sound of Draco clearing his throat and asking

"Drink?"

The word came out a little thickly for his liking, as if it required effort for him to push it forth without something else following it. 

Ron nodded.

Adding literal fuel to the fire of a man who stood before him was a dangerous gambit Draco knew. It seemed however the only offer he had to make. An opening play. Under Draco’s instructions whisky poured itself from the decanter that stood on the drink’s cabinet. Once full, two crystal glasses distributed then themselves to each man. Ron plucked the glassed from the air, threw the drink back in one swallow and then stared at the glass in his hand, his eyes flicked up to Draco's who was yet to take a drink. He was watching to see how the drink hit the larger man. 

"Couldn't have used different glasses?” Ron asked tightly.

Badly then. 

Draco put his whisky down on the counter undrunk and sighed. 

“Ron, it was hardly a jab…I just spelled for glasses” 

“You just spelled for the engagement gift from my parents? I thought Malfoys were known for their class?” Ron spat. 

Draco went to close the distance between them. He wasn’t sure what he thought it might achieve, he’d moved without thinking, a rare moment of thoughtless reaction when he was so used to calculating. Ron jerked backwards, pressing his body back into the counter he'd been leaning against trying to put as much space between his fiancé and him. Consciously or not he raised his empty glass slightly as if readying himself to throw it if necessary.  
Draco stopped. 

He had reached out a hand like a man approaching a wounded animal. He found himself unable to think of a single thing he could do or say and for a moment Draco felt that loss reflect on his face. He had hoped… 

He let his outstretched hand drop to his side and then pushed both hands into his pockets and the surge of emotion back down into his chest He looked at the points of his usually shiny, currently scuffed shoes and clearing his throat, he pushed back against the swell he could feel building. The panic that threaten to take over…He swallowed, trying to make sure what came next was only words. When he felt it under control again, he looked at Ron.

"I can't fix this. I know that. I wanted to be here when you got back. I don't know why. Perhaps I thought you deserved to kick me out. I am incredibly sorry Ron. Give me ten minutes and I'll be gone" 

He internally congratulated himself on how calm he was. His voice steady but empty. It reminded him of how he used to speak to his farther… 

_“I’m fine Father. Looking forward to it”_

With that thought he walked out of the kitchen and slowly up the stairs leading to their bedroom, readying himself to leave the life he had built… and then torn down.


	2. Context

It was only when he’d made it through the door and was sitting on their large bed, that he allowed his head to drop into his hands and took a huge shuddering breath. If he started to cry, he was afraid he’d be unable to stop. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes regardless and as he exhaled a sob tore from his throat like a stab of a knife. Another followed, sharp and unrelenting. Four minutes thought Draco; as he leaned back on his elbows trying to catch his breath. I will give myself four minutes to cry and then the next six are for getting the hell out of here.

The sobs shook his body and he winced in pain as he jostled ribs which he knew were cracked. He couldn’t stop, not till his four minutes were up. He let himself lie back onto the bed and look up at the ceiling while he worked on getting his breathing back under control. Three minutes he thought. Three-minutes then you will pull yourself together and move.

  
This wasn’t part of his plan. He planned to check into a muggle hotel and fall apart there. Then maybe move onto the house in France if he could ensure the press wouldn’t follow him. He’d send for his work things… These thoughts swirled through his head and his breathing was no better. He had only a minute of allotted time left before he had to put something into action. As he counted the last seconds out he felt rather than heard Ron enter the room.

Ron’s magic was like the swell of warm that met you in a hallway when you’d been in standing in the cold too long. It rolled into the room hesitantly, nudging Draco lightly, like it wasn’t sure if it was allowed or not. Draco strained back into a sitting position. He tried not to show the effort it took. He was practiced at hiding injuries.

Ron stood in the doorway with a fresh glass of whisky half drunk in his hand. Looking at him dispassionately.

“Do you know what the worst bit of this is?" he asked softly though his voice was still tight with anger.

He sipped his drink, then let it hang loosely in his hand by his hip. He lent his shoulder against the frame of the door and took in Draco, as if waiting for a reply.

All of it? Draco thought. That I didn’t mean to do it? That I did do it? That I can’t take it back. That I can’t remember how it happened? That I’m glad it happened… Glad you know…  
He said none of this of course, just quirked an eyebrow questioningly at Ron, waiting to be told. He knew a rhetorical question when he heard one.

_“Aren’t you happy Draco? That the Dark Lord has taken such a liking to you?”_

He’d be enlightened soon enough

 _“Of course, you are”_ His father had concluded as he left the room.

Ron took a deep breath. Bringing Draco back to the moment.

  
"It’s that I know why you did this. You like to think you've got this whole bit of you hidden away, but I see it Draco. You refuse to believe that"

  
Draco pushed himself upwards to stand but stalled in pain, he moved his hands to his knees for leverage, he just had to recover himself enough to get off the bed and accio his suitcase. He scooted himself to the edge of the bed and made another attempt, only to find himself shoved backwards by Ron’s hands on his chest. He had not noticed him closing the distance, distracted by planning his exit. Draco grunted in pain and clutched at his side as he bounced backwards onto the bed they had shared.

“Fuck Ron! Just let me leave” Draco gritted out from his prone position. He was getting irritated now. He had hoped to avoid more conflict.

  
Ron was quiet and waited till Draco looked at him.

  
"You said you wanted to be here when I got back. Well, I’m back, and I want you to lay there and listen to what I have to say"

  
Draco closed his eyes and made no further move to leave.

  
“Fine” He sighed

  
"Good…"

  
Ron pulled his wand form his back pocket and summoned the chair by the window to him. He pulled it to the foot of the bed and sat down casually. He looked down at the man on his bed. He was illuminated by streetlight and the moon. It made an oddly lovely sight.

  
"How many people died?" Ron threw the question out as though asking for the quidditch score

  
"We counted once. Do you remember? How many people died because of what you did?"

  
Draco didn’t react. He was being bated. He didn’t fall for such things.

  
_“Did you mind seeing the mudblood cut up Draco? She was in your year, wasn’t she?”_

His aunts voice trilled in his memory.

  
_“Do I look as if I mind Bella?”_ He thrown back lightly before he’d left to wretch in his room.

  
He felt Ron’s large hand claps his ankle, anchoring him back to the moment.

  
"You were a kid Draco. They had you playing double agent…you were just a kid, we all were”

  
Draco snorted.

  
He knew what he was only too well. He’d been cut a deal and he took it. He spent the the war giving over information to the Order that he knew would take out his friends and family, then he’d held back enough to keep them from realizing what he was doing. He’d watch as Ron and the rest of them walked into an ambush they knew was there but couldn’t avoid. He never knew who to pray for on those days.

  
"Leave the past alone Ron" he said flatly

  
Ron stood, his large frame which usually made Draco feel safe now towered over him. Ron thrummed with energy. Draco couldn’t see his features, just his outline in the pale light, he couldn’t tell what expression his face held. It made Draco keenly aware that he didn’t know what Ron was thinking. His usually open book was closed.

  
Ron was not a violent man. Though his work demanded force, it was not something that came naturally to him and while he might stomp and shout like a child at times he had never so much as pushed past Draco in the heat of a fight. It wasn’t in him and Draco reasoned he had no reason to believe tonight would be any different no matter how angry the bigger man was. Yet he could feel adrenaline flood his veins, he could taste it in the back of his throat as he waiting for Ron to make a move.

  
"I can’t” Ron sighed as he leant down and began to crawl up the bed. Careful not to touch Draco as he made his way to his face.

  
“That’s why we’re in this situation love, we’ve let the past go too long"

  
He drew level, looked down at the smaller man and took in what he saw there

  
"I hear your heart beating from here Draco, are you scared?”

  
Ron smiled slightly as if enjoying himself for a moment, he shifted his weight to his left side, raised his hand and ran a finger down Draco’s face, from his temple, across his sharp cheek and down his to his throat.

  
“You won’t hurt me” Draco returned tightly with a confidence that didn’t quite ring sound.

  
Ron raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  
“Are you sure?” He whispered as his index finger traced Draco’s Adam apple.

  
He kept his eyes locked on Draco’s and let his other fingers drift to join it on his delicate throat. His hand resting lightly Ron squeezed. Draco’s breath hitched in shock his eyes widening slightly.

  
“Why don't you do something to stop me? Ask me to let you go so you can leave? You know I wouldn’t stop you…Don’t you?”

  
Draco nodded. Not trusting his voice.

  
“I'll tell you why you don't shall I?” Ron said releasing his throat and letting his hand drop to Draco’s tender side, rucking up his shirt Ron splayed his large hand over Draco’s pale skin and gently stroked his fingers over Draco’s jutted ribcage.

  
“It’s the same reason you haven’t fixed these ribs and why I would bet that those bruises I saw this morning have been hidden not healed”

  
“You want to hurt. You think you deserve it” Ron finished sadly, he looked into Draco’s eyes searching for confirmation.

  
Draco could feel a tear slid down the side of his face. He wanted to leave. He wanted to push Ron away and get out here. At least if he left now, he’d be leaving with some of himself intact. If he let Ron pull at the edges of this much longer, he wouldn’t be able to pretend anymore. He put his hands against the larger man’s chest and pushed futilely.

  
“Let me up” He demanded weakly

  
Ron grasped one of his wrists in his much larger hand, he pulled the palm to his face and kissed it, then nipped the soft skin between his thumb and index hard. Draco inhaled sharply and stopped his attempt to move

  
“It’s why you went to him isn't it?” Ron ask as he kissed the soft skin of Draco’s wrist. He voice rough with his own pent up emotion. His eyes brighter than before.

  
“Tell me I'm wrong love?” he said as he released Draco’s hand and instead buried his face in his neck

  
“Please tell me I'm wrong. It would be easier to think that you were just a prick who did it for fun than ... A mess….my mess... that I've left neglected too long" he whispered into Draco’s ear.

  
He ran his lips and nose against Draco’s skin but said no more. He wanted an answer. Draco couldn’t bear silence like this. His defenses useless against it. He pulled in a shaky breath and found the words flew to his mouth quickly, as if they had been waiting to be called for longer than he knew. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Ron’s hurt face as he spoke.

  
"I couldn't breathe…everything was perfect, and I couldn't breathe” He started.

  
“When the business took off, I thought it would help. I was helping people. My name was out of the gutter and I felt like I was contributing. We bought the house and went public and people thought I… those bloody letters…” his voice failed him for moment. Ron sat u p, straddling Draco now.

  
They had gone public about their relationship last summer. They anticipated it being found out during the run up to the Harry and Hermione’s wedding, there would be so much press coverage. Ron was both best man and maid of honor. His partner shouldn’t have to be hidden away the couple had insisted.

  
_“You’re our friend Draco. This has all gone on too long. It’s time to start living”_ Harry had said clasping a hand on his shoulder.

  
They released a statement. Short and to the point. They had been together since the last year of the war, were engaged to be married and about to buy their first home. They looked forward to celebrating Harry and Hermione’s upcoming nuptials and wouldn’t answer any more questions till that occasion had passed.

  
Then the letters had started.

  
_“Probably drugging Ron. He’s a turncoat. A murder. Blood traitor. Killed his own family. Talented at potions. Must be poisoning them. Don’t go out alone. Slipping him a love potion. He’d turn on Ron eventually. We’ll get out one day. Should boycott his products. Betrayed his friends. Should be in jail. Death Eater scum. Potters lapdog. Can’t be trusted. We’ll get you for what you did.”_

  
Ron hired someone to intercept the letters. Read them for serious threats and then have them destroyed. They even managed to find a spell that would combust howlers as soon as they arrived.Draco had played it off. To be expected, water of a ducks back.

  
“The letters…I shouldn’t have listen to you. I knew you were upset. I didn’t realize how…” Ron trailed off.

  
He shifted again and sat next to him. Looking towards the door and waiting for Draco to continue.

  
“Then what?” he asked quietly

  
“Then the dreams started. After the pictures came out” He felt stupid even saying it. Hate mail and gossip columns photographs. He wasn’t a teenager. He shouldn’t have gone to pieces like this.

  
Ron shook his head in confusion.

  
“What pictures?”

  
“From the wedding. It started with that one of us all…” Draco’s voice was tight. He hadn’t spoken about this before.

  
The picture had been released as part of a bundle that the couple had approved for the public. It ran in the prophet captioned “War Hero’s get a happy ending” It showed the married couple surrounded by Ron, Draco, Ginny and Neville. The three couples had arms slung around each other. Draco was laughing as Ginny kissed one cheek and Hermione the other. They danced to unheard music and held glasses of champagne in their hands. They were the picture of joy. It was lovely. Ron had spelled it to their fridge when it arrived. Draco had started dreaming about it the next day.

  
“'I'd fall asleep and be there again, laughing, drinking, dancing, Then I’d see them. My mother or Vincent…Tonks… All of them. The party would fill up with bodies. All the guests just dancing around them. They’d watch me and I’d see myself how they saw me. Dancing and laughing… living, while they rot in the ground. No one else could see them. They’d grab at my legs and drag me down and you would just keep dancing and laughing… I’d wake up screaming. I told you it was just those few nights, I started to take dreamless draught and when you were away I wouldn’t…

  
Ron stood and scrubbed at his face frustrated.

  
“All these lies…” He groaned “Why didn’t you tell me?... I thought you…Were you ever happy?” he ended hopelessly

  
Draco sat slowly; arm wrapped around his chest for support.

  
“Yes. I had been. I spiraled. I should have asked for help, wrote to ask you to come home … instead of…”

“Instead of having a fucking affair and nearly getting yourself killed?!” Ron spat facing the smaller man again.

  
"It wasn’t an affair” Draco replied hotly, then held up his hand to stop the retort he saw forming on Ron’s tongue

“I’m not saying that makes it better, I’m saying that I didn't plan it and it was only once. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I’d like you to believe that. I have Veritaserum…" he trailed off and began to fish it from his jeans pocket. He had put some in a small vile and pocketed it earlier that evening

  
Ron waved his hand to stop his searching. Then nodded.

  
"Don’t take anything. I believe you” he said grudgingly and then “I’d never have taken those jobs…Why didn’t you ask me to stay?”

  
“I didn’t want to take anything from you… I felt… this guilt. I was sliding backwards, and I didn’t want to drag you with me. I thought I could pull myself together”

  
“That’s such crap Draco” he said softly

  
Draco nodded.

  
“It is what it is” he replied shrugging " and I did what I did. I’m not making excuses, just giving context”

  
Ron walked to the dresser by their door and picked up his forgotten whisky. He took another sip and made his way back to the chair at the end of the bed.

  
“Okay. Context. Tell me exactly what happened last night”


	3. Perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im sorry its still a bit of a tease but I needed to establish a bit if backstory. I hope you'll stick with it! The comments have been very nice to read. Thank you for the encouragement, it makes me want to keep typing!
> 
> Sorry for typos, I have no beta. I do try to proof as much as possible but some do slip through.

Draco hadn't slept in three weeks. Since Ron had left the only rest he had gotten was a few fitful hours here and there when his body would shutdown of its own accord.

As the founder of and head brewer at Emendo Potions Co. Draco Malfoy would tell you that the continued mixing of energy potions, calming potions, coffee and alcohol would leave you vulnerable to severe side effects. 

However, as a man who had all but lost the will to live Draco would tell you that the highs induced by mixing caffeine with energy potions were the only way he was passing in public for a functioning person and that using a personalized calming potion as well as whatever liquor he had to hand to ride out the crashes was stopping him from having crippling panic attacks. So, what are you gonna do?

Draco put his company’s success as well as his own ability to sleep at night down to his development of safer versions of sleep aids and calming potions. The truth of the matter was that even when Ron was home he couldn’t truly sleep. It had been eighteen months since he had slept without intervention. When his fiancé was in their bed, he would make himself take a dreamless drought, which would ensure a peaceful eight hours. Not being sleep deprived meant that he could think somewhat clearly and stay rational when his thoughts spiraled.

However, without Ron beside him he would lapse after a few days… He imagined that if he could just endure the dreams for long enough, he would be able to gleam some meaning and…

 _Maybe he was meant to suffer at night? Life was too good after all. The letters were right. He should be in jail. He should have died like the others.He was putting Ron in danger_.

Those spiraling thoughts, his old mind healer would have told him needed to be addressed. He hadn’t seen her in a while.

Ironically, Draco’s company specialized in treatments for mental health ailments. Emendo Potions was now the main supplier to St Mungos for anything in that area and had garnered a lot of favor for its results with those being treated for war related issues. His public image had been healthier since Mungo’s endorsement, that with the fact that Hogwarts had started ordering anti-anxiety potions for their exam years. The fact was, most places likely to sell such items were now on his stockiest list. Emendo was becoming a household name and for a while it had seemed as if Draco was becoming more and more associated with its good name than his own muddied one. 

The fact that it had remained muddied despite the many testaments of his efforts in the war reminded him that public record and public opinion were very different things. Draco had turned spy for The Order shortly before taking the dark mark and so had technically never committed an act of violence in the Dark Lords name…Technicalities are always so well received ...

He had never been held aloft like the others after the war, not that he had expected to be. He’d been awarded an Order of Merlin First Class like his surviving peers but had chosen not to attend the ceremony. Instead, he’d kept his head down, completed his apprenticeship and started working as quickly as possible, determined to become financially independent from his inheritance so he could avoid being accused of living off blood money.

Little was known about him for a long time, except that he would occasionally be captured by the press’s cameras in the company of some of the country’s most beloved witch’s and wizards. Eating with Ginny and Neville in a new Italian restaurant, having a pint with Harry and Luna after work, walking out of a shop with Hermione…Holding one of Teddys hands at a memorial event, swinging the small boy between himself and Ron.

The press would write about him then, rehashing his history and alluding to the newest conspiracy theories regarding his job as spy but beyond that they left him alone. No one wanted to incur the wrath of the close knit and beloved remnants of Dumbledore’s army. Besides, he was old news.

That was of course until the statement they had issued two years ago. Though their relationship was common knowledge amongst friends and family the two men had never announced it or been seen publicly as anything other than friends. They had even managed to hide the fact that the two were living together. 

He wasn’t sure what Ron had expected. The onslaught of hate mate, death threats and the two attempts on his life were apparently not it. He wasn’t shocked, he wasn’t even angry.

“They have a point” he’d murmured after several glasses of wine one night.

They’d been having dinner at Hermione’s and Harrys and the three others had been heatedly discussing the injustice and hypocrisy of the news’s reception.

The day had been difficult, after the twentieth howler had combusted against Draco’s office door he had given up and left so the rest of his small staff could get work down.

“What do you mean they have a point?!” Ron had demanded angrily

Draco had held up a hand in defense, then reached for the bottle to top up his waning glass

“I mean, from an outsiders’ perspective I am either a blood traitor who should be dead or a turncoat who should be in jail. I am certainly not worthy of being counted amongst you… The idea that I’m taking up the only available space as a golden trio’s bed fellow? Now, that is a crime worthy of punishment!” He laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Love… You know that’s rubbish, don’t you?” Ron asked softly

Draco swallowed another mouthful of crisp dry white and shrugged.

“I’m just saying. From their perspective. I would hate me too”

The night had ended shortly after. The letters were rerouted and the howlers dealt with. They threw themselves into planning for their friend’s wedding and Draco tried to forget what he had read. Sales dipped but recovered. Life went on.

The first time he had a nightmare his left hand had shook slightly for most of the next day. By the third time he was making stupid mistakes in work, by the following week Ron was watching him like a hawk. Taking his own potions was an obvious solution and with uninterrupted sleep came some relief. He tried to convince himself that this was not like after the war. This was a small blip. But the thoughts that swirled in his head couldn’t be quelled with potions.

_You should be dead. Not them. He’s with you out of pity. He knows you’d die without him. They don’t want you here. You should go. They’ll come for you and hurt him in the attempt. You should leave now. It’s not fair to any of them._

Encouraging Ron to take more away missions he would admit was particularly Slytherin of him. He’d reasoned to Ron that it would mean more time off for their own wedding next year. He'd convinced himself that if he could get it under control while Ron away then he’d never have to bother his partner with just how much he had deteriorated. The logic of a person in the throes of a mental break should be questioned. Clearly.

He’d worked late that night. He preferred the office when it was empty these days. He didn’t have to force small talk but he was beginning to lose focus. He rubbed his face and cast a stasis charm on the cauldron he’d been working over. He’d leave someone else to finish this batch tomorrow. His staff were reliable… More reliable than him lately he thought as left the small shop front and walked through Diagon Alley towards Knockturn and his preferred pub The Hag and Stag.

Draco he rarely went out at night, certainly not alone, not since Theo Nott had attacked him in Hogsmeade last year. He still had enemies who weren’t behind bars as well as fanatics who thought he was a threat to Potter and pals, but then it wasn’t as if he’d given much thought to any of his actions lately, he certainly hadn't considered his safety...why start now? Anyway, it was a Tuesday. The pub would be empty. He’d get a drink and go for a walk in muggle London where it would be safe. Clear his head. If he went home now, he’d fall asleep. If he fell asleep, he was afraid he’d pick up where he left off from.

He’d dreamt about Ginny last night. Felt the weight of her body in his arms as he tried desperately to get her out of the line of fire without being spotted. It had been so near the end, essential The Order had said that he not blow his cover. They needed him at the end. A poor excuse for leaving Gin lying in a war zone because he could no longer risk being seen helping her. She had just about made it, she wasn't fit to fight in the final battle she had been so badly trampled and cursed.

In reality she had grabbed his hand and told him to leave, she’d be ok, Molly had kissed him and thanked him for getting her as far as he did. In his dream she had clung to his robe screaming for him not to leave her to die. He'd try to pry her off but her screams had drawn the attention of the others, his father and aunt amongst them. They approached laughing and told him to finish her off. Ginny’s eyes had dulled as Draco woke to the phantom flash of green. 

Draco shook off the memory as he slipped into the empty pub. He could taste adrenalin in the back of his mouth and feel the tremor in his hand. The potions he had taken this morning were wearing off… Fuck. He’d have a drink and then walk till he could think a bit straighter… He could apparate home from London once he didn't think he'd splinch himself. 

His hand shook as dropped coins on the bar and he took a glass of fire whiskey from the bored looking man there. He walked to the snug, it was dark and he wasn’t likely to bothered. His head buzzed.

_Been three weeks and you're just as bad. He’ll be home soon. Gin hasn’t been to see you lately. He’ll leave when he sees the mess you’ve made. Ginny still has scars. Why would he stay. You should go. Turn yourself in. She’s been trying for months. Tell them you lied. You weren’t in the order. You wanted to hurt those muggles. What if the curses made her infertile. You won’t last in prison. They’ll get you. She blames you. They all do._

His chest was tight. He raised his glass to his lips only to find it empty. He drained it unthinkingly. He looked up to gesture to the barman for another only to find his view blocked.

“Hello Draco” Blaise smiled. He was holding a measure of whiskey in one hand and glad of red wine in the other.

“Mind if I join you?”

The voice at the back of Draco’s head that would have usually shouted “Danger, run, go now” was oddly silent, as if even it had given up. Under normal circumstances Draco would have stood, made an excuse and left, but circumstances being what they were he did nothing.

Blaise slipped into the seat across from Draco. He slid the glass of whiskey across the table and Draco nodded stiffly in thanks and took a large mouthful. He cupped his chin and wiped his lips dry with his thumb. Concentrating on keeping his breath somewhat under control.

“Surprised to find you here Draco, shouldn’t you be running an empire? Or planning a wedding?” His voice dripped with sincerity

“Day off” He replied roughly.

“Trouble in paradise?” Blaise asked, his voice a little colder now

“What can I do for you Blaise? It’s been years. I doubt you’re looking for catch up”

Draco was so tired. He shouldn’t have come here. He should have gone home and let himself crash.

“It’s been seven years. I remember as it was David’s anniversary last month. The night he died was the last time I saw you, at least in person”

Draco gritted his teeth. He was in trouble. Theo Notts brother David had died a week before the battle of Hogwarts. He had died because Draco had let a group from The Order into the Manor, helped them steal what he now knew was a horcrux from his father’s office and then left his home forever as their ‘prisoner’.

No one was meant to get hurt. David had thrown a killing curse at Tonks, she’d blocked and sent him flying down a stairs… It was so ordinary. He’d broken his neck, like a muggle tripping. They’d only found out he’d died weeks later. Tonks herself was dead by then and no one blamed Draco for not knowing that the boy had taken to walking the halls at night. No one in the order at least.

“I’ve kept up with you in the papers and of course I’ve seen your potions for sale, they’re popular even in Europe. Congratulations. On everything.

Draco nodded again, waiting for the other show to drop. 

“I was surprised of course. To hear how long you and your betrothed were together. You can imagine that stung a bit as I was under the impression that I was the only one warming your bed at the time”

Ah there it was.

Draco knew he should be afraid. Blaise’s cold smile had turned predatory. He searched again for some inkling of self-preservation and found nothing but the hot coiling pleasure of relief in the pit of his stomach. Perhaps this was the solution he was looking for. Someone who would be willing to redress the balance a bit. Draco drained his glass and pushed it back towards the smiling man.

“Get another round Blaise and let’s talk about it” he said.


End file.
